I copped the title from the trailer to the movie Yes Man, starring Jim Carrey. It premiered on HBO a few weeks ago, and I actually watched the entire thing.
The premise: The guy, whose wife left him, says no to everything. He has a dead-end job as a loan processor ; he denies loans. He gets invited to parties; he declines. He gets cell phone calls; he presses ‘Ignore.’ He’s most happy lurking around Blockbuster and sitting at home watching old reruns.
Down on his luck and life, he reluctantly attends a seminar that encourages saying yes to everything to find real happiness in life. And so it begins….
Long story short, I realized how often I give people the “no-sir”, and it’s because I’m just plain lazy. Yes, I’d love to go out during the week and on weekends, but I usually don’t. I think I partied so much in my early 20s that now it’s overrated. Plus, the thought of getting dressed and getting to my destination makes me want to ball up in the fetal position and take a nap. **yawn** Once upon a time, finding a cute dress and heels for a Saturday night party brought on an adrenaline rush. Now, it seems like a chore. How dreadful.
That being said, I’ve decided to say yes to more things.
For example, my longtime friend wants me to try “stepping”. Not as in “greek stepping,” but Chicago-Step In the Name of Love stepping. For weeks (months), I’ve been flaking out on going to classes (yeah, you actually have to practice) and “stepper sets.”
Well, I finally took the plunge and attended one of the classes. It was..FUN! I consider myself a pretty good dancer. I can look at you and pick up on dances fairly quickly (I’m the Four Corners queen. Where’s my “Set It Of”??). With stepping? Not so much. Atleast five different guys gave me pointers and techniques to master the basic steps. I consider it a challenge, so I’ll be back. I shall not be defeated.
Another thing I thought about as I was learning was the last time I slow danced with a guy. I mean, a real slow dance. Not grinding to a Reggae/House set at the club. It’s been a minute. I’m pretty sure by now, teens don’t even know how to slow dance. Too busy trying to impregnate each other on the dance floor. (I blame videos, lack of parenting and oh yeah, R. Kelly. See a post on slow jams/dancing on Until I Get Married.)
Let’s see how this yes thing works out.